White Flame (2 page)

Late summer, Nebraska Territory, 1856

Emma O’Brien stared at her sketch pad in disgust. The tall cottonwoods she’d drawn lining the banks of the Missouri River loomed dark and sinister. Glancing at the bank for comparison, she noted sunlight filtering through the spread boughs, falling across the bank and river in thin, golden streaks. A perfectly peaceful setting. Nothing like what she’d captured on paper. Her own frustrations had colored her work. Crumbling the paper, she stood.

A cool breeze washed over her as she put away her supplies and drew on her gloves. Too frustrated and restless to sit still any longer, she sent one last disgusted glance over the rail into the shallow murky-brown water of the river then left the rail. The steamboat
Annabella
was grounded—again. Crossing the deck, she addressed the captain. “How long will we be delayed this time, Captain Billaud?” She waved one pristine, white-gloved hand toward the sandbar and tapped the end of her parasol on the spotless wooden deck.

The pilot, a small rotund Frenchman with a thick black beard, frowned briefly, then beamed. “No more zan a few hours,” he said, his accent as thick as the muddy bottom of the Missouri. Seeing Emma’s dismay, he added, “We will warp over zis sandbar and be on our way—like zat!” He snapped his stubby fingers.

Emma allowed herself an unladylike snort. She’d heard that promise more times than she cared to recall since boarding the
Annabella
more than two months ago.

Captain Billaud patted her hand. “You shall see your papa very soon,
ma chérie.
Be patient. The Missouri, she’s like a female, no? One day she’s right where she should be and ze next?
Voilà!
Gone. Picks herself up and moves while we sleep.”

Emma stared at the sluggish river with distaste. Never had she seen or heard of a more contrary river.

The riverman wiped beads of sweat from his face, then tipped his hat. “I must see to my duties. Miss Emma. Go below, leave zis heat. It is not good for a beautiful young lady to remain in ze sun so long.” He patted her gloved hand in a fatherly fashion then strode away, a white handkerchief sticking out of his back pocket like a flag.

Emma listened quietly as he shouted orders for a rope to be tied to a tree along the bank. She knew from witnessing this procedure many times that the other end would be wrapped around the capstan on the bow, which allowed the steamboat to pull itself off the sandbar. Biting her lower lip, she swallowed her disappointment at yet another delay. The trip from St. Louis to Fort Pierre should have taken fifty-one days, but one problem after another had slowed the boat’s progress up the Missouri River. They were now three weeks behind schedule.

Worry churned through her mind like a paddle wheel agitating the water. They had to reach the fort before her father left. In his latest letter, her father had indicated he’d be at the fort until the end of summer, then would head west to Fort Laramie for the winter. By her reckoning, they had a little more than a week, give or take a day or two.

Hooking her parasol over the railing, Emma pulled out the worn letter from the pocket of her navy blue woolen dress. She scanned her father’s boldly penned missive. Like the rest of his correspondence, the page was filled with news of his career—his promotion to colonel had been a frequent topic and he was likely now bucking for a generalship. The letter ended as always, with a bid for Emma to take care of Renny.

Dropping her hand to the wooden rail, Emma stared out across the water at the stand of cottonwoods lining the bank. As the sun dipped low in the sky, the huge trees cast deep angled shadows across the river, encroaching on the remaining light on the water, much like the
bitterness welling inside her heart. While she’d accepted a long time ago that she wouldn’t have a father figure in her life, it wasn’t fair to Renny.

Over the last year, she’d written several times, begging her father to come home and take up parental duties for Renny’s sake, but his answer had always been the same: the army needed him. Those words cut deeply. His family needed him, too. Mentally, Emma kicked herself for believing that this time, given the circumstances, the colonel might actually put his daughter’s needs above his career. Emma folded the letter carefully and slid it back into her pocket.

She squeezed her eyes shut. At seventeen, the crushing pressure of playing mother and father to her nine-year-old sister weighed her down. Emma had never forgotten the promise she’d made to her father. Nor had she resented the sacrifices she’d been forced to make to keep that promise. But since their aunt’s death six months ago, Renny had grown surly and unmanageable. Emma, at her wits’ end, had turned to a father who wanted no part of their lives. Fool that she was, she’d admitted to needing him. It was the first time she’d admitted that since he’d walked out the door, leaving her holding her baby sister. And once again, he’d turned his back on her.

Emma’s gaze narrowed with contempt. As far as she was concerned, Grady O’Brien could stay away forever. In nine years, he had never come back, and if it hadn’t been for Renny who desperately needed and wanted a father’s reassurance and love, she would never have left her home to travel through this wild, untamed land to try and force him to return home and resume his parental duties.

Once again, her attention wandered to the men hard at work trying to free the boat before sundown. Now she wished she’d left home sooner, not waited so long; her plan had been to arrive at the fort and catch her father between assignments. If he had to escort them home, it would be too late for him to leave for Fort Laramie. Then, if he stayed the winter with them in St. Louis, perhaps he’d stay for good.

And if he refused? Emma rubbed her eyes. If he refused, then she’d have to find a way to ease Renny’s hurt. Discouraged that all her careful planning might have been for nought, Emma straightened, pulled at her gloves and left the railing, clutching the unopened parasol Aunt Ida had insisted a young woman always carry. Lifting her skirts, she went downstairs to see what mischief Renny was getting into.

It came as no surprise to find empty the cabin she and Renny shared. Emma tossed her parasol onto the bed, having a pretty good idea where to find her errant sister—in the stable area. Sure enough, when she went below she found Renny in the steerage, caring for horses that belonged to a contingent of soldiers also traveling to Fort Pierre. Her gaze traveled over the men sitting around a bale of hay, playing cards. Sniffing the air, she caught the scent of alcohol. This was definitely not a place for a young, impressionable child. And one glance at the girl’s disheveled appearance confirmed she’d been down here most of the afternoon instead of doing her studies.

Renny, unaware of Emma’s presence, continued to chatter away to the captain leaning against the wall. Folding her gloved hands in front of her, Emma spoke in her firmest voice. “Ranait, it’s rude to intrude upon the captain and his men. You’ve taken up enough of their time for one day.”

Captain Derek Sanders, a tall blond man in his mid-thirties, pushed away from the wall and stepped forward with a warm smite. He removed his hat. “Good afternoon, Miss Emma. I assure you that your delightful young sister is no trouble. In fact, you are both welcome to join me anytime.”

Emma smiled politely. The captain was a handsome man, tall and fit, always neatly attired, and groomed with clean, short nails, and hair most women would kill for. Blond and glossy, he kept it short, the ends just brushing against the collar of his uniform. “That’s very kind of you, Captain, but Renny mustn’t neglect her studies.”

Derek brushed his fingers over his moustache and smiled, his voice a low, seductive hum for her ears only. “You’re a breath of fresh air to this weary soldier, Miss Emma. It will be a pleasure to have two beautiful ladies visiting at the fort.”

Emma lowered her gaze, embarrassed yet thrilled at his flowery compliment. She pulled at her gloved fingers. “That’s very kind of you, Captain Sanders.”

Derek stopped her nervous fidgeting by taking her fingers firmly in his grasp. Lifting one hand to his lips, he pressed his lips to her gloved palm. “Merely the truth, Miss Emma.”

She glanced warily at him. Was he making fun of her? He stepped closer. His soft, honey-brown eyes reminded her of a soulful puppy. Her heart raced at the desire in his eyes.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Emma. I hope you’ll allow me to get to know you?”

Flustered by his boldly stated feelings, Emma pulled her hands from his grasp and turned to watch Renny brushing down a chestnut mare. “There’s much for me to consider, Captain Sanders.”

Derek clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze following hers. “Ah, yes, your young sister. As I said, a delightful child.”

Emma lifted one brow. “My dear, Captain. I fear you’ve taken in too much sun.”
Delightful
was not a word she’d choose to describe Renny of late. Headstrong, willful and rebellious came to mind; right now, her sister looked like an abandoned urchin. Bits of straw clung to her soiled pinafore, and her hair hung loose, the neat braids long gone. Searching the straw on the floor, Emma spotted a lone blue ribbon. The other one was nowhere to be seen. She sighed. “Appearances can be deceiving, Captain. You have not seen Renny at her worst. I fear her escapades have sent many a brave man running.”

Derek laughed softly and twisted the ends of his moustache. “Ah, my dear Miss Emma. I am not most men. Do not worry about me. I can handle a mere child. In fact, I find her high spirits quite entertaining.”

Emma smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt then folded her hands demurely to still their nervous trembling. “Time will tell, Captain. Since my aunt passed away, I fear Renny has grown even more headstrong.” A wistful sigh escaped at the thought of never seeing her beloved Aunt Ida again. How she missed her. Though she’d become fragile with age, giving over the running of the household and the raising of Renny to Emma, she’d retained a calming effect on the young girl.

Renny had been a happy and content child without their father. But as the years had passed, and as she’d observed her friends and their families, Renny had become more aware and concerned with the absence of their father. The sporadic letters and gifts along with the empty promises that he’d return when his duty was over no longer appeased or fooled her. Emma’s lips twisted at that bald-faced lie. Colonel Grady O’Brien’s tour of duty would never be over.

Putting the bitter thoughts from her mind, she watched her sister, noting how happy the girl seemed as she groomed the horses. A far cry from the sullen and rebellious child of late. Remembering her own early childhood, the horses she’d had and the time she and her father had spent riding, Emma frowned. At Renny’s age, she’d had her own horse and had loved to defy convention and ride bareback.

But her father’s abandonment and the early responsibility forced upon her had been the
end of that. Aunt Ida hadn’t seen reason to incur the expense of maintaining a stable when they could just as easily walk or hire a coach. But now that Emma knew how much Renny loved horses, she decided to purchase a pair for them to ride when they returned to St. Louis. If caring for the huge beasts put the sparkle of happiness back in Renny’s eyes, she’d provide her with a whole stableful!

“Miss Emma?” Derek’s voice drew attention back to him. “I’d be honored if you’d join me for a turn around the deck.”

Emma reluctantly shook her head. “Thank you, Captain, but I’m afraid I must take Renny back to our cabin.”

He bowed low. “Very well. Perhaps you’ll find it in your heart to honor a poor, lonely soldier with your company later this evening?”

Emma made a noncommittal response then hustled a complaining Renny up the stairs, eager to get away from the group of staring soldiers, especially the captain. It wasn’t that she objected to his attentions. She didn’t. He made her feel attractive and special. But she didn’t want to set herself up for hurt and disappointment later on. And until she saw her father, any plans for the future must be put on hold.

Back in the small, barely-larger-than-a-closet cabin, Emma sat Renny down and picked up a hairbrush. The girl squirmed and complained as Emma drew the brush through strands of hopelessly snarled hair. “Do sit still, Renny.” She pulled out more bits and pieces of straw.

“Aw, Em. I was having so much fun. You ruin everything.” Renny folded her arms across her chest and frowned.

Separating the strands into three thick bunches, Emma quickly plaited the girl’s deep auburn hair into one long braid down her back, then refastened the pale blue ribbon. “I know you like being around the horses, Renny, but you really mustn’t bother the captain. He’s a very busy man.”

Renny jumped off the edge of the narrow bed, her mouth set in a mutinous line. “Captain Sanders don’t mind. He told me so.” The last was spoken defiantly.

Emma turned away. “Nevertheless, we shall spend tomorrow on your studies. Your teacher will be most displeased if you return behind the other students.” She held up a hand when Renny opened her mouth to protest. “That is final.”

Renny pouted, her gray-blue eyes darkening with resentment. “I bet Papa isn’t such a bore. When we get to the fort, I’m gonna ask him for a horse of my very own. He won’t make me study or do stupid stitches all day. I hate it! I wish Aunt Ida were here. She wasn’t such a bore. She let me have fun. Wait until I’m with Papa. Then you can’t boss me around.” With that, the nine-year-old ran out the door.

Emma started to follow then stopped. She knew her sister didn’t mean the hurtful words. Before Aunt Ida had fallen ill, forcing Emma to take over the discipline and day-to-day raising of Renny, Emma had been the fun one, the one who’d sneaked desserts into the nursery, or sneaked her sister out to the park for some girlish fun while their aunt napped. And now, because of her authoritarian role, Renny resented her and believed their father would be more loving and fun.

Fighting pangs of hurt, Emma watched her sister run down the narrow corridor, her long braid whipping from side to side. The ribbon slipped off, leaving Emma to wonder why she bothered—with her sister’s hair, with this trip, with her determination to make her father see them.